


Only 6000 Years

by TheAnxious_Fem



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), An Angel's Insecurities, Aziraphale/Crowley - Freeform, First Kiss, Gaaaaaayyy, M/M, One Shot, POV Switch with each Double-Space, likely misuse of italics, only teh fluffs, sappy bullshit, sorry no smut here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnxious_Fem/pseuds/TheAnxious_Fem
Summary: Aziraphale's insecurities have held him hostage while Crowley has waited for him. Now they have a chance to come clean with each other.





	Only 6000 Years

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate feedback- anything to make me a better writer ^_^ Just don't be a dick, please and thanks.

  
  


“So, when do you think that’ll be? The ‘Big One’ I mean.” The angel looked at him solemnly . 

“Oh…” The demon tuts his tongue for a moment, “I dunno, another century at least...They don’t even really know how involved we are yet. We have a bit of time.” 

“What’s a century to six millenia?” The angel cocked his head, worry lines marring his features in a way that had always managed to upset Crowley’s stomach. 

“A blasted wonderful party, I’d say.” He shrugged, clapping a hopefully-comforting hand on the angel’s shoulder, giving him his best grin. 

  
  


Unbeknownst to him, Aziraphale was off in his head, already running circles around himself with worry- but not about ‘ _ The Big One _ ’. No, he worried about what  _ he _ would be doing while his most adored friend was off...partying. Insecurities played the largest part in his disbelief. There still hadn’t been ample enough clarification that he was in fact the ‘best friend’ that the demon had referred to whilst in the pub, several days prior. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” The angel grinned at him, as warm as usual. 

  
  


“Oh...right.” The demon stammered, thinking he’d perhaps just had enough of him, for the night. He’d try again tomorrow. And  _ every day _ for the next  _ century _ , if need be. Perhaps, he told himself, he’d be able to come out and tell him everything he’d always wanted to, at some point. Perhaps

. “Fancy a ride home, at least?” He gestured towards his Bentley, double-parked a few meters away.

  
  


“I suppose I’d rather that than the  _ tube _ …” Aziraphale shivered at the thought of the small confined space packed with people, grinning nervously. He wanted to be close to his demon for as long as permitted, but just  _ knew _ it was a one-sided thing. All the books he’d read and all of the plays and shows he’d seen had shaped his ideals of how most of those things should work, and Crowley had left him none of the signs he’d known to look out for. He’d never even caught him  _ staring _ .

  
  


Crowley, of course, had spent  _ plenty  _ of hours, days even, absolutely gawking at him, in awe, wonderment, appreciation- but he had always looked away just in time, so as not to be caught. He’d savored the smallest brushes of his skin, any time their hands would touch, he had to hold himself back from wanting more. He’d always thought his affections were openly apparent, that he just wasn’t the angel’s type, or that he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing in the first place. He was as content as he could force himself to be with what they had. Their ‘arrangement’. He’d go on pretending it didn’t rip his heart to shreds as long as Aziraphale smiled at him. 

  
  


The ride back to the bookshop was quieter than the angel would have liked. He waited for Crowley to say something, or even put on one of his  _ bops _ he usually preferred. He didn’t feel like he should break the silence- not even to scream at him about his blatant disregard for their safety as the demon sped along the roads at nearly  _ 100 miles per hour. _ He just gripped tightly to the leather upholstery and tried to calm his racing heart. It upset him more so when they parked in front of the shop and he moved to get out, waiting for Crowley to say something- anything at all. He didn’t even _ look  _ at him, keeping his eyes focused on the steering wheel like he wasn’t even  _ there. _

“Right.” He said, though it was more of a sigh than anything. “See you...around...I guess…” pain knotted his stomach. It wasn’t the first time and likely wouldn’t be the last, he’d told himself. 

  
  


It was then, as he closed the door, more abruptly than he ever had, that Crowley turned to look at him and finally speak. He’d been going over, in his mind, what he’d have _ liked _ to say, but couldn’t manage to. 

“Angel-” He’d finally started, as the door slammed closed. He watched as Aziraphale raced inside and shut the door behind him. The closed sign had stayed flipped. He jaunted out of the car and up the stairs- the door was locked. It seemed the angel didn’t want his company  _ at all. _ He felt the small flame that still burned in his chest shift to blue in a wave of disappointment. Not even a nightcap. 

  
  


Aziraphale didn’t see him come up to the door- he only heard him drive away in a hurry. He felt his presence get farther and farther away behind the wheel of the Bentley. He had hoped he’d, perhaps, want a nightcap- though it was still quite early in the day. He’d hoped they’d sit around and talk, for hours, like he liked. A thick sadness traced its way, like fingers, up his spine. He didn’t crave anyone like he did Crowley. He could go without the lot of them, really. Very few cared to get to know him- many thought ill of him simply by his choice of attire-he’d heard  _ all of it _ . The only person, or being, rather, that he gave much attention to, was  _ him _ . It felt quite like he’d left a large piece of himself in the car, still clutching the upholstery. He decided on a nap- not that he’d ever had one before. 

  
  


The demon raced back to his flat, though not exactly in any hurry. He didn’t have any plans. He figured he’d yell at his plants. His chest ached and he feared what was to come. Would he lose his best friend all over again? Many a bottle of amber-coloured liquid beckoned him into the kitchen- not that he kept anything  _ else _ in there. He didn’t ever have any guests so he didn’t even own any proper dishes. He had a pair of three kinds of glasses- all related to alcohol- and the only reason he even kept two of each was...well because of  _ Aziraphale _ . 

He kept a secret stash of white linens and towels in the closet for...just in case? He would argue the same reasoning for why he had night clothes that he knew would fit the angel in the bedside table opposite his own. He’d always secretly hoped they’d end up  _ here _ some nights, instead of the bookshop. He knew it was because of their arrangement. He knew heaven would have issue with his even  _ being _ there. But now he didn’t have those reasons. Now all they had was time. 

  
  


Aziraphale found himself amidst a  _ lovely _ dream.

He walked hand in hand with his beloved, openly, through St. James park. The sun was shining brightly above them, making the water shimmer. The ducks quacked at them cheerfully but didn’t beg for food. The ice cream vendor had their favorites, and it was just _ lovely.  _ Things transitioned to a picnic as the sun began to set and stars decorated the sky as they had before the invention of electric lights. The dream kept transitioning- the picnic turned into dinner at the Ritz, turned into a nightcap at the bookshop, turned into a passionate kiss against the door, jarring him, finally, wide awake. 

  
  


Crowley tried the bookshop’s phone once, twice,  _ six  _ times, until he decided to just drive over. Worry sat deep in his stomach. It had been  _ four days _ with no word. At first he’d assumed he was just ignoring him, decided he’d try later. He even waited to call during his _ business hours _ \- he  _ always _ answered during business hours. His last three calls had been back to back, with less than a handful of minutes in between. What if  _ they  _ had changed their minds and had  _ come for him _ ? 

What if he was... _ gone _ ? 

Could he save him? 

He wouldn’t lose him- not  _ again _ . 

The drive took less time than it should have, as he’d miracled the distance shorter and the car faster. The bookshop looked...dead. His heart thudded in his chest as he slammed the door closed and raced up the front step. He pounded on the door after seeing the closed sign and when he decided not to wait any longer, he lifted his leg to kick it down. The day of the fire rang through his mind. He’d rather bathe in holy water than lose him again. Just as he pulled back to kick the door in, it opened and he nearly lost his balance with a leg in the air. 

Aziraphale stood on the other side of it, wearing night clothes rumpled from sleep, with flushed cheeks and messy hair. His stomach dropped and he didn’t stop himself a second before he launched himself at his angel and wrapped his arms around him, kicking the door closed behind him. 

  
  
  


Bewildered as he was, the angel welcomed this strange embrace. The demon smelled like sunshine and rain and everything that had ever made him happy. 

“Have I done something?- Have  _ you _ done something?” He asked, his voice hoarse from sleep and slightly muffled by Crowley’s clothes pressed against his face. 

“I’ve been calling you…” He panted. “It’s been  _ days _ , where have you  _ been _ ?” He pushed back from him, hands gripping the angel’s shoulders so he could look him in the eyes. 

Aziraphale rose a brow. “Days? What? I- I was just...I took a  _ nap _ …” How had it been days? Surely he’d only been asleep for a couple of  _ hours _ . 

“Nap? Angel that’s a  _ small coma _ . Are you feeling alright?” He pressed his cool hands to his face. It felt nice. He might have sighed. 

Crowley’s cheeks seemed flushed, just under his glasses. 

“I...when you left...well I didn’t know  _ what to do _ ...I didn’t want to  _ do _ anything...so I- well I decided I’d give napping a go.” He shrugged, looking away as he chewed his lip. 

“I thought...I thought they might have taken you again...or that you’d been hurt...I…” Crowley sounded utterly exasperated as he pulled him back into his embrace. He fed the flames in his chest just so, wrapping his arms around the demon’s body. It felt nicer than the dream, having him so close. 

  
  


They stood quite still, holding on to each other longer than was friendly, even when he’d been so afraid of having lost him again. He didn’t dare speak, and have him break away. He didn’t have any other excuses to hold him this tightly. 

“Did you ever find your friend?” Aziraphlae finally spoke, though he didn’t pull away, only turning his head so that he wasn’t speaking into his shoulder. 

“What?” Crowley felt utterly confused. 

“Ye-the other day? At the pub...you..you said you had lost your  _ best friend. _ ..did you find them?” He sounded... _ jealous _ ? He _ knew  _ jealousy. That was jealousy. It coiled like a serpent in his belly and he silently enjoyed it, if only for a moment. As much as he truly enjoyed toying with the angel, and found himself feeling utterly flattered by his jealousy- unbelievably so- it did seem that clarification was necessary. He chuckled a bit. 

“What’s funny?” The angle sighed, wringing his hands in his shirt- noticeably soft even through the fabric that separated them from his skin.

“ _ You _ are.” He sighed. “Can we...have a sit?” He gave him one last squeeze for good measure, because he wanted to. 

“Sure…” He could feel the angel’s disappointment as he dropped his arms back to his sides and quickly turned around and headed towards the stairs at the back of the room that lead up to the cozy little flat he kept above the shop. He quite enjoyed the way his bum looked as he bound up the stairs in his comfortable-looking pyjamas. He led him into the living room and sat down on the sofa, gesturing vaguely to the room in a way that meant to him, ‘sit wherever you’d like’. He sat next to him, though not so close that they were touching. 

“Angel?” He finally asked. Aziraphale was fidgeting, looking down at the plush carpet that covered this part of the floor. He had lines on his face from sleep and looked utterly uncomfortable. 

“Yes?” He looked up, frowning just so. 

“Who do you think my best friend _ is _ ?” He grinned at him. He couldn’t  _ not _ play with him, just a touch. 

“Oh, I don’t  _ know _ ...some _ demon _ , I suppose.” he sounded as bewildered as he looked. It did make Crowley’s chest ache, but he hoped that it would be worth the build-up. He could  _ feel _ the envy coming off of him.  _ Envy _ from an  _ angel.  _ It was kind of sexy, in a neurotic sort of way. 

“Angel.” He sighed, grinning his best grin as he set his hand on Aziraphale’s cotton-clad knee, “Have you ever seen  _ me _ even  _ remotely _ excited...to be around another demon?” He rose a brow. 

“I...well I suppose not. A- a human, then? You hate angels so I  _ know _ it isn’t another angel.” He looked so gloriously  _ uncomfortable _ . 

“Humans are strange and gullible and they don’t live long enough for me to even get to know them. And you’re right, I  _ do _ hate angels- all except for  _ one _ .” He was still grinning. 

“Oh...I don’t...Who- Forgive me, dear, I’m really not processing anything properly...perhaps the nap wasn’t my brightest idea…” He frowned deeper. 

“Aziraphale…” He drug his name out just a bit, turning to sit sideways on the sofa with his legs crossed in front of him and his elbows balanced on his knees so he could put his face in his hands and lean towards the angel just so. “ _ You’re _ my best friend. I lost _ you _ .-You’re a bit thick, you know?” 

The angel’s frown remedied itself, bringing both a warm grin and a wash of color to his otherwise alabaster face. “Me? _ I’m _ your best friend...well you’re  _ my _ best friend…But I suppose you knew that already…” he wrung his hands nervously into the sofa, refusing to make eye-contact. 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear you say it, angel.” 

  
  


“I thought you were going to throw a century-long party?” Aziraphale turned to face the demon, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. 

“What? Oh, that was a figure of speech, more or less- plus how am I supposed to do that while my best mate is  _ comatose _ . A  _ nap _ ? The only naps I’ve had that lasted that long were...well I call them depression-naps.” He sighed. 

“That’s actually a rather good description.” He spoke low as he dropped his gaze to his pedicured feet. He wondered to himself perhaps he should put his regular clothes on…

“Wh-why are you...depressed?” Crowley frowned at him. Not his usual angry/I’m-going-to-smite-them-all frown, but a  _ sad _ one. A frown that held just an overwhelming amount of.. _.love _ ? He knew love. He was  _ made  _ of love. It made his chest swell to fullness, like a hole had been filled. How had he not noticed it before? Could demons even _ feel _ love? “I...I don’t know if I can say...or if it’s even...appropriate.” He stammered.

“Did heaven do something? Was it Gabriel? Micheal? I’ll go up there! I’ll punch that fucking angel in his stupid face!” Crowley sprung up from the couch and started to make his way towards the door. Aziraphale grabbed for him the best he could, finding purchase on the waistband of his pants, snapping him back just a bit. 

“No, Crowley, it wasn’t any of the angels- not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment. It’s not quite like that...I...it’s complicated...it isn’t something _ new _ , either. No one has  _ done _ anything. Will you sit back down, please, dear?” He chewed his lip. He’d very nearly grabbed his behind. He dropped his hand.

“O-of course.” the demon backtracked, sitting back down, only now just a touch closer- their legs touched. “What is it, angel? You can tell me  _ anything _ . It’s the angels who do the judging, not so much from my lot...if they’re even still my lot.” He shrugged and grinned. 

“Ohhh...I don’t know, Crowley...Things already feel so, so  _ precarious  _ as they are.” He chewed even more fervently at his poor lip, glancing between Crowley and the upholstery pattern of his sofa. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell him he loved him. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the desire to blurt it all out just then- but he’d called him his  _ best friend _ . How could he  _ ruin that _ when it was more than he could have even asked for? He didn’t even feel like he deserved that much. 

“Angel I’ve just told you that you’re my  _ best friend _ . You don’t have to hide things from me- hev-hel- we both bloody-well know I’ve done far worse things than you have- or at least taken credit for them- so there’s nothing you could do that would upset me, got it?” He placed a cool hand on his knee for emphasis. 

“And that’s the worst bit, isn’t it?” He gave the demon a sad smile. “The worst part is that even if I told you, you would probably, at the very least, be  _ alright  _ with it.” 

“Angel please just tell me. Please?” He gave him the slightest of pouts. 

“I don’t want to  _ ruin _ anything…” He spoke in a low whisper, a tear slid from his left eye. 

“Angel...angel, please _ just tell me.. _ .please?” Crowley gently wiped the tear away with his thumb, leaving his hand to rest on his face.

  
  


Aziraphale’s face was utterly pink, and the tears started to flow like little blessed streams from his eyes, leaving Crowley’s chest aching and his heart in ruin. He couldn’t wipe all of the tears away, as they just kept flowing and flowing. 

“Angel you could  _ ruin my entire life  _ and I would…” He almost spoke his  _ own _ secret. ‘ _ I would still love you _ ’ Echoed solidly in his mind. Something clicked, then. 

“Why would you  _ say that _ ?” the angel frowned. “Why would you...why would I  _ ever do that _ ...and how...I don’t…” He reached up and grabbed onto the hand still on his face, Crowley expected him to shove it away but he only closed his eyes and leaned into it. 

“ _ Angel _ .” Crowley cooed. 

“I just don’t...how could...what in..” He continued to go on making unintelligible argument as the tears cascaded down his wonderful face and Crowley almost couldn’t bear it. 

“Angel!” He shouted, just a bit louder than he meant to, making the poor thing jump. 

“ _ What, _ Crowley?” He sighed. 

“Can I tell you something?” 

“I- I suppose…” he sniffled, wiping his long sleeve across his eyes. 

“Do you know  _ why _ you’re my best friend?” He gave him a solemn look. 

“No...no I  _ don’t _ know...I’m not  _ bad enough  _ or even  _ good enough _ for anyone...let alone  _ you _ .” he frowned. 

“Not  _ good enough?” _ he scoffed. “Angel you’re better than  _ all of them” _ he pointed vaguely upwards. “Best of the bloody lot!” 

“You keep saying that but I-” Crowley placed a thumb over his lips, still managing to cradle the side of his face. 

“Angel,  _ Aziraphale _ , You’re my  _ best friend _ because  _ I’m _ not  _ good enough _ to be anything else for  _ you _ .” He sighed. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He cocked a brow. 

“I really don’t know if I can make it any clearer than that, angel…” He sighed, feeling a touch defeated. He stood then and tousled the angel’s hair. “I’ll give you some more time. All the time in the world, for you.” his smile was a sad one. 

“No- wait, don’t go!” Aziraphale reached out for him.

“As much as I love hearing you say those words, I feel like I should...I won’t  _ go _ anywhere, I promise, just my flat. Why not come by when you’ve got your head...sorted, yeah?” He looked down at the object of his affections as lovingly as he could muster. “I’ve got some good wine- a Chatau d’Yquem- if you feel so inclined…” He didn’t wait for his response- no reason to cut the wound any deeper- he saw himself out and with a snap of his fingers, it was locked up behind him. 

  
  


Aziraphale crossed the room to watch Crowley climb into his car with a sort of lithe perfection that only he had, and watched tearfully as he drove away, leaving the angel to his sordid thoughts. Everything was in the air now. He just had to come out with it. He just had to take that leap of faith...or was it faithlessness? He was unsure.It wasn’t that he didn’t want to...he’d already resigned himself to the likelihood of his  _ falling  _ and had come to terms with it. As long as he didn’t lose his demon, he really didn’t care. His books could burn- the whole bloody  _ shop _ could  _ burn _ , as it had once already- as long as he could feel how he’d felt with Crowley, for all of these years. He was _ fine _ with it. He would try to save a few of his favorites, if he could, though. 

Crowley  _ had _ been right. He really  _ did  _ need to clear his head. He was foggy from his small-coma of a nap and there had been quite a lot going on all at once. He was left dizzy from it all. He felt  _ warm _ , though. There had been quite a distinct wave of  _ love _ as Crowley had walked away. It had hit him right through the chest like a lance through the heart and he felt  _ exquisite. _

He road the feeling all the way into the bedroom, to his wardrobe. He flung the doors open-but not so hard as to damage the antique wood- and stared at it, ready to pull one of his favorite’s out to wear for another day. His style had always had a tendency to  _ lag _ behind, as it were. Humans just jumped through things so very  _ quickly _ \- of course, he couldn’t blame them, as their lives were so very  _ short _ . 

He never felt like he was more than a few decades shy, and it had only happened a handful of times that he was  _ too _ far off. Crowley had been quick to help him ‘catch up’ when he really needed to, but of late, he’d grown to rather like a certain style so much that he’d go as far as to call it  _ Timeless. _ But now, as he reached so quickly for his favorite, he wondered if perhaps it was time for a _ bit  _ of a change. He would stick fairly close to his comfort zone- he didn’t want to be  _ uncomfortable-  _ but he could at the very least use a slightly different color palet.

He pulled out his favorite coat and did the unthinkable- he made it...gray. He ran his hands over the entirety of his wardrobe- which consisted of quite a lot more than he led on-and changed it all to varying shades of gray, blue and white, phasing cremes out entirely. Something in him ached as he did it, but it also felt alarmingly  _ right. _

A few minutes later- or perhaps it might have been an emotional few  _ hours _ , but humanity’s perception of time mattered not, to him- he stood in front of the large mirror in the hall and looked himself over. He wore a pale grey coat with dark,matte gray cufflinks over a matching darker-grey waistcoat. He’d decided on a pale blue shirt with a navy bowtie, and a pair of grey trousers and charcoal oxfords in a matte sort of leather. Still as dapper as he could manage, but not nearly as  _ pearlescent _ . He felt that the darker shades helped to bring out the blue of his eyes, but at that point it felt like he was being  _ vain _ so he decided it might be time to go. 

He had decided to keep it just a touch old-fashioned- he had heard the term ‘hipster’ being thrown around, of late, and in his research, felt that it was just a  _ touch _ off from his comfort zone. He could be ‘old- fashioned’ as long as it was...ironic? A cellphone was likely in his near future, but it didn’t upset him as much as it had the day before. He hailed a cab as he came out of his shop, flipping the sign and locking the door behind him. He stopped off at his favorite patissiere to quickly grab a box of assorted favorites- not that he planned on eating them- and instructed the cabbie in the direction of Crowley’s flat. 

  
  


Crowley lolled about his flat for a few hours after his almost-confession. He’d ended up in his plant sanctuary, berating the rubber plant for her slightly wiltier posture for nearly an hour- humidity was  _ no excuse _ \- before he found himself lazily nestled in his desk chair, legs flung over the side of it, flipping through the channels on his tv. He was halfway into one of many Doctor Who Christmas Specials when his doorbell chimed and his home security system sent an alert to his phone. Without getting up, he pulled the camera up on his phone to see a very nervous-looking Aziraphale standing at his door. He left a box of pastries midair for a moment to fix his bowtie and straighten his coat.

It was  _ grey- _ it suited him  _ quite _ nicely.

The demon flung himself rather dramatically out of his chair and waved the tv off as he sauntered out of the room. He opened the front door with a similar level of bravado, making a broad, sweeping gesture with his arm as he welcomed the angel into his home. 

“Hello angel,” He said, grinning, “I see you’ve brought snacks. You look nice.” 

“Yes. I went to Mariella’s and got an assortment- I did give one to the cabbie, he was a lovely fellow. I...I thought I’d try something new.” He gestured to himself then, “Is it terrible?” 

“No, not at all, angel” Crowley said smiling as the door closed behind them, locking with a snap of his fingers. He lifted his dark glasses to see him better, the grey and navy really made his  _ eyes  _ look  _ magnificent _ . He hoped he’d wear more of this lot than his normal... _ cremes _ . He looked much more vibrant, much more  _ alive _ . 

“Where can I set these?” the angel held up the pink box. 

“Oh, the kitchen, I suppose.” He led him through the darkened corridors to his open, rather spacious kitchen. It was just as dark as the rest of the place in color, but the large wall of windows made it feel quite warm and bright. It was what had truly sold him on the place. He’d imagined how much Aziraphale might like it- which, judging by the look on his face, was a correct assumption- and decided it was  _ perfect _ . He gestured towards the polished steel countertop and waited for the angel to unburden himself. 

“Oh,  _ Crowley _ ,” He cooed, “you have a _ lovely  _ kitchen…” He spun on his heel, taking the room in, his arms pulled close to his chest. 

“I’m glad you like it.” He couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face. Anything to keep his angel smiling like _ that. _ “Did you want them now?” He gestured toward the sweet-smelling box, “Or should we adjourn to the den?” 

“I should like to see the den, actually.” He smiled. Standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by the ethereal light of the sunset that bounced around the room from the large windows, Aziraphale looked quite a bit as heavenly as he was. Like a  _ vision _ . 

After staring for just a bit  _ too _ long, in plain sight, with his glasses perched atop his head, he turned around and led the way to the den. Color crept up his face as he walked down the hallway and neither of them spoke a word, the only sounds coming from the tapping of expensive shoes on the stone floor. The den was sunken a few feet in, so there were four stairs leading from the hall, into the room. 

“Watch your step, angel.” He said with as steady a voice as he could manage. Just as he spoke, though, he heard him misstep behind him and turned quickly around to make sure he wouldn’t smash face first into the polished concrete flooring. His arms shot out just in time to catch him, circling his torso. Aziraphale looked up at him, blushing from his hairline down. 

“S-so sorry.” He stammered, but didn’t pull away. “I wasn’t paying attention...I was looking up and...I’m sorry…” He pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he looked up at him.

“It’s fine, angel.” He smiled down at him as the warmth radiated from his chest. Aziraphale looked positively  _ drunk. _ He didn’t  _ smell _ like anything, though.

“Aziraphale, did you- have you already started the party without me?” 

“What do you mean, dear?” the angel still hadn’t pulled away, leaving his arms balled against Crowley’s chest, leaning slightly into him, but not with his full weight. 

“Have you been drinking or anything already, today? Not that I care just...curious.” He gnawed lazily on his lower lip as he held the angel’s gaze. He wasn’t talking or acting strangely, just, his pupils were  _ wild _ and he was so very  _ flushed.  _

“What? Of course not. I...I  _ hardly _ had the time.” He looked a touch insulted. “What makes you think that?” 

“Well, firstly, your eyes, secondly, you’re beet-red, and thirdly, we’ve been standing this way for more than a minute.” He grinned cockily. Anything to rile him up. 

“Oh- I...Dear...um..” He stammered, pulling away then, to the demon’s dismay. 

“No need to leave on my account, angel…” He spoke low, not sure if he had even been loud enough to be heard. 

Aziraphale made his way, quickly, to the large, L-shaped, black leather sofa and sat down towards the middle of it, taking up as little space as possible, as he did. The tension in the room was palpable, and Crowley wanted to tear it apart. 

  
  


The angel sat stiffly, twiddling his thumbs and looking up at the marvelous architecture of the room. It looked like the whole place had been carved out of some large rock, the ceiling dipping and angling in certain places that looked more organic than the clean lines and dark stone led on in the main part of the place. Their were small windows on the far wall, which stretched nearly twenty feet, but most of the room’s light came from the circular skylight fifteen feet up. It felt like he was inside of a piece of art. It made for a nice distraction, but could not compare to the even more wonderful work of art that sat not two feet away, lounging, albeit just as stiffly as himself. Neither one of them had spoken since they’d sat down and he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to be the one to do so first. 

He had come over to  _ talk _ , though. It seemed rather rude of him to sit in silence while Crowley waited, _ ever _ so patiently for him. 

“I’m sorry about earlier.” His voice sounded far too loud. 

“I don’t believe you’ve got anything to be sorry for, angel.” Crowley sat forward resting his elbows on his knees . 

“I should have just told you…” Nerves boiled in the angel’s stomach. Maybe they  _ should  _ have eaten first. 

“That’s why you’re here, now, isn’t it?” He grinned at him. 

“It is. Yes. I- Crowley...I spend _ so much _ of my time with words, one would think I’d be better at stringing them together. I-I want to be  _ poetic _ and  _ dashing _ and skilled at a hundred different things- I think that’s what drew me to _ you _ , dear…” He sighed. His heart, metaphysical or otherwise, hammered in his chest. “You always seem to be right where I  _ need  _ you to be and I’ve long been taking you for granted. I’ve denied your friendship for the praise of  _ zealots _ and I don’t understand how you continue to just... _ take it _ . Or at least I didn’t until recently. I don’t think it was that I didn’t _ see _ it, so much as I never felt _ worthy  _ of it…” A tight knot formed in his chest. 

“Angel…” Crowley’s voice was soft. “Don’t cry...Hey…” He lifted his chin to meet his eyes and didn’t move his hand away.

“I’m fine, really,” Aziraphale said, feeling the first tear slide down the side of his face. “I just...I’m so sorry, Crowley. I never thought you’d reciprocate any of this and I’m still astonished...I... _ I love you _ .” 

“ _ There _ it is…” Crowley purred, using his thumb to wipe the tears away as he moved closer to the angel. “I’ve loved you for  _ so very long _ , Angel. I’ve never loved anything or anyone the way I love  _ you. _ ” He kissed the side of his face, ever so lightly. His lips felt softer than he’d ever expected or hoped, and the love rolled between them like a billowing cloud of smoke off of a roaring fire. He kissed the corners of both of his eyes, wet from his tears, both of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. When their lips finally brushed, feather-light, a heavy sigh left his chest. 

  
It had only taken  _ six thousand fucking years _ . 


End file.
